


The Nights

by InkandType



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkandType/pseuds/InkandType
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are days when I'm so busy with this campaign that I can't remember my own name, it seems. I'm always talking--always<br/>working--always moving. Sometimes it's because I love the things that I'm doing, and sometimes it's because I'm afraid that if I stop, I won't be able to start again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short Josh/Donna drabble that's solely from Donna's point of view. It could be out of a journal entry or something of that ilk. Angsty and completely unbeta'ed.

There are days when I'm so busy with this campaign that I can't   
remember my own name, it seems. I'm always talking--always   
working--always moving. Sometimes it's because I love the things that   
I'm doing, and sometimes it's because I'm afraid that if I stop, I   
won't be able to start again.   
  
It's not that I regret any of what I chose to do. I had to walk away.   
I had to. But sometimes, when I'm alone in my room in whatever hotel   
we've stopped at for the night, I wonder what he's thinking at that   
exact moment. Do I ever cross his mind like he does mine? Years ago we   
joked about missing one another.  
  
 _I missed you._  
 _When did you find you missed me the most?_  
 _The nights._  
 _Of course._  
  
Even though it was just a passing bit of banter, it's turned out to be   
so true. During the still hours of night, I think about us and how   
we've evolved over the last seven years. We've gone from boss and   
assistant to friends to... Well, I'm not really sure. For years   
there's been this current of something amazing just below the surface   
of our relationship. Perhaps it's even been there from the beginning.   
I don't know.  
  
There was a moment when I thought that we might be turning a bend in   
the road together. I was scared and exhilarated and so unbelievably   
happy. When I think about it now, I feel so silly, like some teenager   
still beliving in fairytales--waiting for that white knight to come   
rescue her. I kept waiting for that last step, that final change that   
would somehow make the years of expectation worth it, but then, it   
never came.   
  
The longer I waited, the more I began to feel cheated somehow. I could   
have done something myself, I know, but I felt like it was somehow out   
of my hands. As time went on, things seemed exactly the same on the   
surface. What bothered me was that we had both seen beneath the facade   
we'd created. I woke up, and he was there, and I knew that he loved   
me. At least, I thought I knew. To see what was there just out of my   
reach, and then to never even have the chance to see what would happen   
was finally what ended it for me.   
  
We were drowning, so I saved us the only way I knew how. I wish I   
could have called him, if only to make him understand why I left, but   
pride and fear and a dozen other things always kept me from picking up   
the phone. And I have to admit that a small, meanish part of me   
revelled in the fact that maybe I finally made him look and see   
everything. Pride and fear still rule my head. There've been a dozen   
moments when I could have extended an olive branch to him, but I clung   
to my determination to prove that I am more than just some girl who   
walked into his office. Maybe I don't have to prove it to him, but I   
need to prove it to myself.   
  
And so I sit in my silent hotel rooms and think about the past. I   
think about Christmas scribbles and black bow ties. I think of the   
million tiny things that passed between us that no one else even knows   
about. I dred them, and I love them, these nights when I have only my   
memories and thoughts for company. I pray that they will lead me to   
answers to all the questions I fear to even ask.


End file.
